


tell me where do i draw the line

by Falmarien



Category: Black Sails
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Post-Finale, Spoilers, or extended scene more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 12:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12366033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falmarien/pseuds/Falmarien
Summary: She found him on a hill.





	tell me where do i draw the line

**Author's Note:**

> possible ooc (more so than usual, at least). mostly this is just me trying to figure Madi out because this has been bugging me since the finale. again, thanks to [cavale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cavale) for enduring my whining and constantly writing myself into corners. title from Poets of the Fall’s Where Do We Draw the Line.

She found him on a hill.

It was remote from the camp, overlooking the ocean, a spot familiar enough that she could picture everything with clarity, the edge of the cliff, the out-stretching shoreline, and the waters beyond. It was—it had been her spot. _Their_ spot. It must have taken him quite some time to walk up here, but she thought she understood why.

True to his words, John Silver had stayed behind after the chiefs and the pirates had all left. Their people were friendly enough, seeing him as the one who wasn’t in this for greed, the one who brought peace. The one who had valued their princess’ life without reservation, of utmost importance.

Madi still couldn’t bear to look at him. But she owed it to herself, and to him, too, to see this through, which was why she’d decided to walk all the way to here, almost the other end of the island, not a single soul in sight to question her, to make her question herself.

(Still, she did. But she was here now.)

He stood up, then turned around.

She could see the moment he had taken in the sight: her standing here, her clothes, her face.

“I am here to tell you that we are moving. The Queen has decided that for our safety, the entire camp is to be moved, as this location is no longer discreet.”

His eyes were cautious, searching. Waiting. “All right.”

“I will be leaving as well.”

“Leaving, as in...”

“My mother will continue to act as the Queen, and I will leave the island to assure the supply route for our resources. Even with the treaty in place, it is still not safe for us. There is peace now because they cannot afford to fight us at the moment, but it will not stay like this forever.”

“That sounds... reasonable.”

“I am asking you to leave as well.”

For the briefest moment, Silver’s face froze, but he schooled his expression back quickly, as if he already prepared himself for this. Maybe he did. “Madi—I meant it when I say I would wait—”

Madi raised her hand to stop him, her eyes steady. “I remember. I understand.”

He fiddled with his crutch a bit, unblinking.

“The war I had wanted, the war Flint had wanted, it is not gone just because of what you did. There are so many of my people still in chains, still suffering. It will still happen someday, one way or another. I… I think I understand why you did what you did better now.”

Suddenly, for a fleeting second, she wished they could have this conversation in her tent, where she could sit down so her legs wouldn’t feel weak, even though they were perfectly fine, and her heart wasn’t filled with fond memories of herself running around on this hill, or of the two of them, arms linking and faces smiling, secure in the knowledge that this hilltop was secluded enough there was no need to hide, to act, to pretend.

Silver was still looking at her, his eyes worried but patient. She used to envy him that, mistaken that for acumen, for composure, for worldliness—which wasn’t exactly wrong, but she knew better now: he was indeed bright and indeed worldly, and nowhere near actually being calm. 

“But that’s not enough for me. Civilisation is not going to spare us, and we have to be prepared when it comes, to know how it works. I realise that now. So that’s what I am going to do. Maybe I will see your way better after. Maybe I won’t. That’s in the future.”

(Silver noticed her fingers tapping on her dress for a few beats, and then stopped. She was never fidgety; he wasn’t quite sure if he should be worried about it. But he was always going to worry, anyway.)

“You said you would wait for me to understand why you did what you did. I do now. To the best of my capacity to do so. And I do still care for you.”

“As do I.”

“But I can no longer trust you.”

It was like ripples in the water, subtle at first but then incontrovertibly apparent—he was long accustomed to ways of concealing his distress and hardening his face, but she could see the traces, she could _still_ see them, and it pained her to bear witness to them. 

But she had to, and it was done.

 

 

Madi left the island three days later, leaving no promises behind. 

John Silver set sail, presumably to Nassau, a day after that.

And the rest was left to stories.

 


End file.
